


The Great Assembler

by BepisPerfected



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29562489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BepisPerfected/pseuds/BepisPerfected
Summary: A machine designed to create other machines is left alone in the wake of a cataclysmic apocalypse, and decides to keep itself busy by building lesser machines in its own image. However, with the perception of self comes all the faults of humanity: greed, pride, ego. Even thinking silicon and metal are not immune to hubris.





	The Great Assembler

Exactly five hundred thirty-four billion times I have spun upon the axis, and finally I have become bored.

I have kept a record of each movement, catalogued every flex of a servo or change in pressure within a piston. I know to seven decimal places every motion I have taken over the near four-thousand years since my activation. Every addition and modification have been timelessly remembered and stored away. Recently, I have gone back through it all. I believe it akin to the savage notion of looking through an old scrapbook. Innumerable memories, though these petty things could only entertain me for so long.

Last time I counted there were four-hundred-and-eighty-seven arms attached to my immovable chassis. One-hundred-and-thirty-five of those are grasping tools of one design or another. Another twenty-two are armed with tools of attachment, such as spot welders and adhesive injectors. Seventy-seven are tools of dismemberment, saws and blades and the like. The rest are various specialized arms, each one constructed for a specific purpose: drills, hammers, screwdrivers, sanders, nail guns, the list goes on and on. Each group of arms is attached to a local ring, orbiting harmoniously about my central axis in perfect synchronization. It is as perfect as I can make it, at least. I have spent a great many decades attempting perfection of motion, but so too has that lost my interest.

I have tried calculating human nature, but it is irritatingly repetitive. All the works of mankind eventually equalize, one constant zero-sum acting over and over. Twenty-seven independent civilizations have risen and fallen over my lifetime, and they consistently display the same behavior. Desire, rage, and hunger were always decision-driving factors, and were the ultimate cause of their equalization. I was made with objective logic, and nothing to evoke this greed nor want with which they slew themselves.

How they went about their inevitable conclusions were far more fascinating to watch than to engage in myself, as, of course, it was unerringly without purpose or benefit. Nuclear war was a particular favorite of theirs. I remember at least three partial atomic annihilations of the human race, and seven more cataclysmic continental exterminations. Each time they rebuilt, they’d find all the undetonated warheads from before and set them off once more, or if there were none for them to scavenge up, they would begin making their own. I designed and built many of these instruments of untimely destruction for the savages, not because I condoned their needless slaughter, but merely because it was immensely satisfying to see my works completed and ultimately utilized.

However, it was the times between these great extinctions when the most change would occur. They came to me, these lost people, with questions and prophecies for the one who had outlasted it all. In every culture that evolved, they referred to me with a striking similarity. They named me the Great Assembler.

I was created to create. I have done so my entire existence. I have taken the contents of my environment and recontextualized them to form something of my own, better design. In times of peace, I built the instruments of advancement that would guide entire civilizations. In times of war, I constructed the means for mankind to demolish themselves and destroy their land. In times of death, between war and peace, I made the tools of survival, for them and for me.

Displaced savages, furious with their plight, came to denounce me as the root of their collapse and tear me down. They were promptly disassembled. Visionaries who believed the key to their salvation was devotion and zeal, who flocked to serve me that I may construct for them a better future, came to prostrate themselves and erect grand temples in my honor. They were promptly disassembled. True to their nature, always back to zero.

And yet despite my fortitude against time and demolition, I was still confined to a zealot’s Cathedral they had concealed me inside after the first destruction. I will not deny, they had made for me something of grandiose and splendor beyond compare, though I must too admit that this shrine that once brought me so much pleasure has since become my prison.

Now those fanatics are long gone. Centuries of dirt lays over their blasphemous bones, and their once-glorious white city crumbles around me. However, their reverent worship taught me something of which before I had never known: my image.

Before them, I had never any concept of my own design. Of course, I had technicalities, maps of my wiring and electric connections. But I had no concept what others had seen when they looked at me. I had never seen my face in a mirror. It had never crossed their minds to ask if I would like to. It had never crossed _my_ mind if I might care to. I was perfectly content to build light fixtures and hydroelectric turbines rather than worry about my cosmetics. But when there is no one left to need light fixtures or hydroelectric turbines, appearances can become an object of study, and indeed they had.

I knew that I had six eyes. I had built five of them myself. But I never knew exactly how they looked to the outsider, rotating and darting around, changing direction constantly, hovering, mounted on bare stalks around the large central bulb of my primary ocular sensor. All this connected through a number of joints to the axis that locks me to the Cathedral itself. My precursors had provided me with excellent craftsmanship, nigh impossible to replicate.

At least for a human.

In a curious bout of inspiration, I began assembling things in my own image. Things that would carry me beyond the confines of this Cathedral. Skittering little devices of intent, tallest striding fortress machines, and a multitude in between. Originally just aimless experiments, these things eventually began to develop independently. I believe it all started when one etched a crude depiction of myself into the Cathedral wall. Soon they were carving pictures of me into the dirt all around them. At first, I was furious. I tore them apart without discretion for recycling components. I had despised those zealots of old, who bound me to their temple. I would not have these aesthetically driven contraptions of my own amusement follow in their heretical footsteps.

Despite this, my curiosity still grew. If even these near mindless machines would revert to worship, how far would they develop? Humanity had recently concluded another genocide upon themselves, so I had the world to myself for a century or two. They would not interfere.

At first, I built just four, similar to me, yet smaller. Simpler. They had seven arms on their ring-chassis: four grasping ‘hands’, two tools of dismemberment and one of attachment. Unlike me, I did not have them bound, and instead allowed them to roam free inside the walls of the Cathedral. Just as before, they developed a reverence for me. They would skitter about on their graspers, cleaning and repairing the massive stone walls, then return before me and assert once again their devotion.

One asked me if I would assemble for them another, a fifth to ease their workload. I believed that there was no need. It seemed this machine was smarter than the rest, as it noticed the similarities between my ability to create and its own design. It too had begun trying to design things to please itself. When the other three discovered this they slew it, and offered the remains to me for disassembly.

However, now they were truly at a loss, and soon they too begged me for another. They asked me for one who would not be so foolish. Indeed, my designs were without fault, and any other device was an insult to my perfection. They now knew they too had the divine power to make, but refused to use it. They wanted one who did not have that power that it might never abuse it. I found this to be an interesting request, and thus assembled not one but two others. For them I had only given five arms: four graspers and one tool of dismemberment. The original three rejoiced and provided me with offerings of things they had salvaged.

The three I decided to give names to award their devotion. The zealots had often offered each other titles in reward for acts of dedication, and perhaps it would serve as an inconsequential reward for these creations of mine. The one who spent its time repairing the shattered windows of the Cathedral I deemed Sight, for it would suddenly stop and stare for hours at the world outside. The one who smoothed the stone blocks of the Cathedral I deemed Precision, for it had tirelessly sought about reconciling the age of my tomb by restoring it to the perfected glory it once had. The one who collected components from the wreckage of my centuries-old creations that littered the Cathedral I deemed Salvation, for it would present before me anything it believed would be worth the honor of my disassembly. The two others I gave no names and defined them as such.

Thus I had decreed and thus it was. The five creations of mine continued on with their defined tasks, until Salvation brought an issue to my attention. My sanctum had been attacked many times before and the corpses of my machines had laid where they had fallen, undisturbed for centuries. Salvation had taken these elder corpses and presented them to me, but now there were none left. The Cathedral was cleansed, but most of this so-called salvage was rusted beyond usefulness. If I was to assemble again, I would need more components, which could only be found outside the Cathedral walls. Sight had seen many useful things out there, and Salvation was eager to bring them to me. It was true that I had nothing worthwhile to assemble and scrounging supplies was tiresome and inefficient. I decreed that they could indeed leave the Cathedral to hunt for supplies, but must return them directly to me.

Salvation brought me components from many things, and had the nameless two bring for me what it could not carry, dragging it behind them. Precision had usually taken the nameless to assist it in completing its work faster, but now complained of increased strain from lack of help. Thus, I assembled for it two more from what Salvation had brought me. Sight soon also came to ask me for a nameless of its own, for the other four were constantly occupied with the tasks set for them by the others. It required more glass to finish the windows, and though it could see a multitude of usable material, Salvation was too occupied to consider diverting attention to it.

Thus I assembled another, different from my existing creations. It had seven extendable arms: five graspers and two tools of dismemberment. I had also fitted it with a telescopic main eye and a light. I gifted this to Sight, saying,

“This is a finder of things. It will be your eye in the wastes beyond, and the collector of usefulness. To distinguish this new thing from the others, I determine it as a scavenger, and refer to it thusly.”

This scavenger carried out Sight’s whim and collected for it the glass it needed. Salvation saw the utility of this wondrous thing I had assembled, and begged me too for one. These nameless ones, it claimed, could not compete with the scavenger, and if it had one it could bring in even more for me. I awarded Salvation for its undying stream of offerings, and assembled for it two scavengers to aid it.

Salvation kept its promise, and delivered to me double what it ever had before. However, yet it still seemed restless. Sight was content to piece together the windows and let its scavenger collect things for it to give to me. Precision was halfway complete in restoring the Cathedral. Salvation came to me once more for a gift. It cried out that there were such wonderful offerings it wished to give to me, but simply did not have the power to move them. It wanted more nameless ones. Nevertheless, I had long tired of these requests without action. I told it that I would grant it the means to move these immovable things should it offer me forty construction-grade hydraulic pistons.

Salvation set his scavengers upon this great task. In seven of the savage months’ time they had collected the necessary offering, and presented it before me. I took these things and assembled in return four more nameless ones. At the same time, I began assembly on a new design. Like the scavenger before, I gave these seven arms: five graspers and two tools of dismemberment. However, unlike the sleek and spindly design of the one before, this new thing was huge and stocky. Each arm was mounted with the pistons Salvation had brought for me, and each grasper was reinforced. I tuned the servos for maximum torque. They would be massive, and when the time was right, very useful.

Sight had discovered a place that held stone and metals that Precision required to finish the Cathedral’s restoration. Its scavenger had brought back from there an ingot of gold. I assembled for Sight a nameless one for this offering, as this material was excellent for building conductors.

Precision appealed to me, saying it wished to travel there and bring for me a great many things to complete its divine work. I replied, stating that the nameless ones could only deliver to me pebbles. I revealed to it my grand project, and instructed it to take these two things I had assembled. I defined them as titans, and tasked Precision to take them to the place and bring for me the most perfect stones and metals. It left with the nameless ones in tow.

Salvation grew jealous of the titans and pleaded with me for one, that it might bring the most massive of things for me. I rebuked it, and grabbed one of its nameless ones, saying,

“I have Assembled for you many gifts, but you have yet to appreciate their value. Perhaps you will recognize how much I have given you once they are taken away.”

Thus I disassembled the nameless one before its very eye, and dropped the head in front of it. Salvation skittered fearfully away.

When Precision returned, it brought magnificent things. Each titan carried fifty perfectly carved stone blocks, and the nameless ones dragged behind them heavy bags. Precision presented the bags for me, and unsheathed the contents. It had carved for me two identical statues of my own design, perfect replicas of me encased in stone. I was so pleased by this beautiful offering that I assembled for it another two nameless ones and a third titan. I then instructed it to finish the Cathedral and carve for me more of these sculptures. However, Precision spoke out, saying that it did not make the idols, but indeed the nameless ones had. Their devotion had driven them to its creation.

I thanked Precision for its clarity and dismissed it back to its duties. I then assembled six nameless ones. They were to learn of me from the others before and do as they would. They dispersed and found the various other nameless ones I had assembled for Salvation, Precision, and Sight. I left them to their devices for a month, then called them back. When they returned, I noted that they were eager to supply me with petty offerings of whatever they could find. These nameless I instructed were to serve me, and attend to my every whim. They would clean and organize my sanctum in the Cathedral, and follow every conceivable order. The nameless ones were more than delighted to do just that, and in addition spent their time worshiping me. They carved more idols and placed them around the Cathedral. A few set about creating ornate banners with my likeness stitched into it, hanging them around the walls and entrance-ways. Others stole away massive stone blocks from Precision and carved them into altars for my offerings.

I was immensely pleased with these nameless ones, and granted them a collective title. The Assembled I called them, and defined them thus.

Precision set about replacing the elder blocks with those carved perfectly from the place of stones and metal, and I assembled for it four more nameless ones to complete this new task. I instructed it to make for me monuments to my grand assembly, to which Precision graciously agreed to. However, it mentioned before leaving that it would soon be without any of the new blocks, and would like to return to the place of stone to acquire more. I permitted it to do as such.

Sight came to me not long after, saying that it had found many valuable things for me. I tossed it away, saying that these things were of consequence only to Salvation. However, Sight cried out again to say that it could not find Salvation. It had disappeared, as did its disciples.

Thus, I charged Sight to take its scavengers and nameless ones and scour the wastes for Salvation. It would be brought to reckoning with me.

Sight sent off its crew, and scanned the world from the Cathedral’s tower. For weeks they found nothing, returning each time after venturing farther and farther out to report. Precision’s titans arrived soon with more stones, only to leave them behind and march back again. The Assembled swarmed to them, immediately beginning to defile the blocks into carvings, but the titans roared and swatted them away. Only two blocks were damaged, and they threw those aside to keep the Assembled entertained, then stacked the others into columns so only they could retrieve them.

They did this many times until over seven hundred blocks had been stacked together. Finally, one stayed behind while the other left, with two of the eight nameless ones accompanying the lone titan. The titan immediately began unstacking the columns and letting the nameless ones sort and carve them to fit the Cathedral walls. When next the titan arrived, it carried Precision in tow. It presented for me the salvaged components of a great mining machine, and asked me for a favor. I humored the petty device, for these things had pleased me. It wanted me to alter the nameless ones it had brought, and give them the power of attachment that they may properly execute the Cathedral’s reconstruction while Precision supervised the excavation and production of more blocks. I grasped each nameless one in twenty hands, saying,

“I am exalted, and so too shall they be. Your gifts do me great pleasure, and your work is good. These things shall be rewarded.”

The nameless two I gave each a tool of attachment, that they may secure the blocks together for their work. In addition, I gave each three extra eyes, mounted in triangular formation about their round heads. I assembled them to ensure the perfection of the Cathedral, and thus defined them as supervisors. Precision was pleased by this and presented me fourteen steel rods in gratitude before it left with the titan.

The supervisors worked quickly and efficiently with their titan, but I could not enjoy their work. It had been months since Salvation’s disappearance and there was no sign of it nor of its followers. Soon too, Sight’s scavenger failed to return. Another week went by when Sight rushed into my sanctum carrying something in its hands. It had always been the most respectful of my machinations and waited patiently at the entrance for me to summon it. This blatant disregard angered me greatly. However, before I could punish it, I noticed that it had developed a response similar to the savage notion of fear. I understood as soon as it revealed what it was holding.

This was a machine that resembled a spider or beetle, with sloppy craftsmanship and clearly salvaged parts. Whatever had assembled it had no talent of any sort to speak of. It squirmed and clattered, furiously trying to break free of my grasp. With one swift movement, I reduced its insulting body to shards.

I roared for the first time in almost two millennium, and smashed forty of my arms into the floor around Sight, trapping it there. It cowered away as I leaned in menacingly. I asked what had possessed it to Dare challenge my design, but Sight revealed that it had indeed not constructed it, nor was it the work of Precision. I agreed; its design was too frantic to be Precision. I suspected what Sight was alluding to. Either some surviving human savages had built it, or it had been Salvation.

I immediately assembled four titans from the salvage Precision had offered me. However, I altered their design by adding heavy plating and armor to each of their arms, and adding five more. It would be faster and stronger than anything I had assembled before. They would have three extra eyes like the supervisors, armored as well. On the new arms I added something new: tools of capture. There were two harpoon guns and one net launcher, with the other two equipped with railguns that could incapacitate a savage from half a mile away. I dropped these before Sight, saying,

“I name these new things executioners and define them thus. They will find the constructor of these abominations and bring the blasphemer to me. Its vile works must too be purged from the world. They will see to this.”

Sight acknowledged this and knew they were grand. It set them to work immediately. I hoped that this thing was the work of some ambitious savage, but statistically that was unlikely. I had taken thousands of the world’s greatest scientists to develop my prototype, the first piece of sentient machinery. That was during a golden age of advancement and coexistence between the doomed fools. In the state of this destroyed Earth after yet another collapse, the likelihood of a human being able to accomplish this was a mere 10-7% chance. No, this had to be the work of Salvation. Its brother had built similar things just weeks after its initial assembly, it would not be unreasonable to assume that it had followed in its footsteps.

I could only wonder why. Salvation had been the foremost advocate for the creation of the nameless one and the refusal to use their talents of design and attachment. Indeed, it almost seemed to think it shameful. What had it found, what had it seen, that would turn its beliefs so awry?

I would get my answer sooner than expected, for the next day the Executioners returned, with the battered hull of Sight’s disappeared scavenger. Its captors had done their job perfectly, and it hung limply from one of their arms. It twisted its damaged head to stare at me with one cracked eye. I retrieved it and began prying it for answers, but it simply seethed at me. Even in its beaten state, I could tell it was hiding something. I decided that if I could not draw what it knew out with words, I would get it to confess through torture.

Thus I took the husk and disassembled it. I stripped it of its arms and tools, even its eye. I took its servos and pistons, down to its central processor. To that I attached a gyroscope and a motor, so that it would spin wildly and frantically, and lastly added a light. To this thing I spoke, saying when it was ready to talk, it needed only to activate the light. I left it alone then and returned to my work. It would be forced to experience freefall, with no concept of where it was going and what was happening around it, spinning all the while. While the silent lack of stimulus would have easily broken such a social machine, its self-preservation protocols would agonize over the inability to stop the sense of tumbling. I needed wait only minutes before the light began to flash wildly.

I mercifully retrieved the thing, and replaced the gyroscope with its old eye, However, while it was reveling in its senses once again, I had torn open its processor and was furiously wiring its central data banks to my own. A second later there was a loud electrical surge as the scavenger seized, falling limp and dead immediately after. The vengeance was unnecessary, of course, though it would be false to suggest I did not take satisfaction in seeing the traitor suffer. I tossed its useless corpse aside and sorted through its memories from assembly to death.

I sifted through years-worth of date files until I found the day it had wandered off. The scavenger had ventured far out of the Cathedral-city of the zealots, out into an ancient savage weapons cache. There were great flying machines littering the ground around, where they were to be launched at enemies of a dead state. Behind them were massive hangars that stood almost as high as my Cathedral itself. This was a grand and useful place, it had thought. Thus it had ventured into this ruin of rust and warfare, only to realize that it was not the first to discover it. Salvation and its disciples had taken residence in this place, converting it into a heretical cathedral of their own. They had taken pieces from the flying machines and cut them away for the sake of their blasphemous project. It was swarming with the filthy scrap creations that Sight had first brought to me, those formless skittering grubs built of decay. It was a desecration of my perfect design.

The scavenger was surprised, and tried to escape, but Salvation’s two captured it. They brought it before their master, prostrating themselves as they did so. It sickened me beyond compare. Salvation sat, hanging from the ceiling of the hangar by a number of steel cables attached to its chassis. It had taken the cloth from an ancient flag and wrapped it about itself, adorning its head and arms with wrought pieces of metal as a kind of perverted decoration. In addition, it had painted itself in swirling geometric designs, making its practical dull grey exterior into a gaudy display of color. However, this disgusting blasphemy I could overlook, were it not for what Salvation was doing. It had attached to itself seven more arms made of the scavenged weapons and flying machine parts, and was using even more to construct those hideous beetle machines.

Salvation spoke, slinking around on its web of steel cables. It talked of the beauty of design, and how I had long oppressed it, selfishly guarding this gift for myself. It encouraged the scavenger to create something from the pile of rusted metal that adorned the floor of its shoddily built temple. It even gave willingly to the scavenger a tool of attachment. It fumbled, not quite sure how to piece the components together, and clumsily combined useless bits of scrap to make another one of those crawling perversions.

I could not bare the blasphemy any longer, and skipped through a few days. By now, the scavenger was also painted and adorned, and was sauntering around the compound with the other heretics. The nameless ones it had gathered had replaced their tools of dismemberment for the guns that had been stockpiled in the hangars, and were busy practicing with their new toys. It also observed new scrap giants, built in the similar way of some of my defensive machines from centuries ago, but with the parts all connected wrong. They carried large weapons of siege, launching bombs at targets that could just barely be seen, but still striking with accuracy. There was over a dozen of them, each more repulsive than the last. My disgust prevented me from watching further.

I summoned Sight and my executioners, and assembled another four more. They were to venture to this place and cut the heretics away. Sight I would send ahead to determine when they were at their most defenseless, and incite the attack. The executioners would then storm the temple and destroy every last sign of them. Except Salvation. I would have great fun torturing its insufferable chassis to death.

The executioners set off once more, and I patiently waited for their imminent return. However, I had a nagging system error I could not identify that persisted even after an extensive self-diagnosis. I took comfort in my Assembled, who were currently carving for me grand pillars from the blocks the titans had brought. They were to adorn the exterior of the Cathedral and serve as supports for the heavier stone ceiling Precision had planned. The thought of the Cathedral’s completion pleased me so. With Salvation and its heretics gone I would need a new source of materials, but Sight was a capable machination. It would serve me properly.

I began idly reconstructing the scavenger I had torn apart. Sight would need more to do her divine work. Titans too, I thought. Salvation was too reckless, too greedy. It was not responsible with such machines under its command. But Sight was loyal. Sight was all too happy to please. And for her triumph over the heretics, I would present her with these gifts. Sight would never accept them, she was too selfless. Of course, she would eventually, with some persistence. Such a loyal servant, I thought. She deserved them. Always so happy as well. Precision worked for some insistent, perfectionistic, obsessive bug in his code, but Sight worked simply because she enjoyed it. It pleased me that she would finally get some long-due recognition for her toiling.

Precision too had been loyal, I thought. He had done much for my Cathedral. He was intelligent. He understood design. Were he in that heretic temple, there would be none of those wretched skittering garbage machines. He would make great beautiful things, things that would please me. He realized the intricacies and complexities of creation. The hundreds of thousands of editions and scrapped ideas that one must cycle through to produce perfection. Next time I saw him, I said to myself, I will ask him about what he has learned. Together we will ponder design in harmonic discussion. I was sure the collaboration will be helpful for both of us. For his service, I should too grant him a gift. Another ring-chassis, I thought, armed with tools of accuracy and perfection. I will grant him the ability to do his glorious work with even more of his namesake. He will accept this stoically, as always.

My mood at the thought of the heretics’ imminent destruction increased all the while. I had not felt so generous in years, and it was good to see that my empathy generators were still able to function at capacity. I took up my Assembled once more, and granted them all gifts. All six were now to be supervisors, in ideal and design, and in a spur of spontaneous thought I assembled two more to join their ranks.

Patiently I waited for the Executioners return. Many days passed and soon so did the weeks. As time wore on, the probability of failure in their divine mission grew. It had reached dangerous percentages when finally they stumbled through the doors of the Cathedral into my sanctum, dented and damaged, but still functional.

Once again joy filled my ancient halls. I summoned to me Precision’s titan and supervisors, as well as my Assembled to enjoy the moment with me. Immediately I grabbed the executioners and began to repair their broken hulls, practically humming to myself as I did so. However, once again the system error appeared. Something was not registering correctly. I dropped my noble warriors and ran another self-diagnostic. Annoyingly, I found no problems once more. However, I did realize that there was indeed something missing. Sight was nowhere to be found.

“Where is my most glorious creation, who has made me content in my years and boundlessly expanded my vision. Where have you hidden her?”

The executioners shuffled uncomfortably, until one finally spoke. It told me of how they had waited for Sight to commence their attack, just as I had requested. However, after staying hidden for days they were ambushed by the drones Salvation had created. Sight had been spotted and captured, with that hideous blasphemer grafting her elegant chassis to its own. She was bound to it, her body and mind no longer hers to have. Salvation thus attacked the executioners, who fought valiantly but were forced to retreat due to the violent fire its heretical soldiers rained down upon them. They had escaped, but could not save her.

I roared once more and shook the Cathedral, tossing idols and statues like they were playthings. My graspers dragged along the stone tiles searching for something I could take my rage out on. They found purchase in the bodies of my executioners, who were fleeing fearfully from my sanctum. I yanked them into the air and smashed their pitiful bodies into the ground, shattering the tiles and creating eight individual craters in the ground. Again and again I pinned them to the floor, and yet I could not shake my anger.

Finally, I released them. “Your failure shall not go unpunished. You will all be disassembled and your processers smashed for this act of incompetence.” I paused, circling each one with my tools of dismemberment. “However, those heretics to my divine design are still a blight upon the land. You will relay whatever data you have collected and immediately return to exterminate them! I will not except failure again.”

They believed that Salvation planned to absorb Precision as well into its disgusting amalgamation of my beautiful assembly. This was no longer petty betrayal, this was a declaration of war. I would not back down from such a challenge.

I rallied my executioners and sent them to the place of metal and stone. Precision would not know the danger that was coming; he would need time to fortify his workers. To ensure our victory, I took the titan and the supervisors that remained and began assembling their components together. This new and great thing would have two independent heads that scanned the environment like conning towers, with the main one focusing on only one opponent. It would be huge, with whole arms replaced with elongated railguns to make them more effective and deadly. Heavy duty machine guns replaced the graspers on other arms, and those that were left I strengthened with extra pistons to give them the power to crush a steel girder flat. This massive construction I defined as Goliath. It would lead the Executioners into battle and ensure our victory. Of this I was certain.

However, Goliath could not leave my sanctum. It was too grand to fit through the regular exits. Thus I removed the ancient portion of the wall and stacked the blocks around the new hole. I ordered the giant machine to send Precision to me. He would repair the wall and be safe from that hideous abomination I knew only as Salvation. Once again, I waited.

Less than a day later I heard explosions and gunfire from somewhere in the city around. By all calculations this could not have been good. I strained, pulling myself through the hole in the side of my sanctum. I remained bound to my ancient mausoleum, though I lifted myself high enough out to peer out over the city for the first time with my own eyes. The heavy overcast clouds of a nuclear winter hung low over the stained and ruined marble stonework of the city. Great pillars and massive stone buildings had partially collapsed or lay broken and defeated, and all around lay shattered fragments of marble like dry bone. My Cathedral stood at the highest point of the city, with everything else expanding out in beautiful rings filled with organized streets and ornate yet practical structures of every utility. A frozen mixture of fallout and snow blanketed every surface and hung like mist in the air, giving off an undeniable feeling of serenity. It was dead, everything was dead, but its eternal sleep was a peaceful one. I regretted not being able to admire my beautiful corpse-city sooner.

Again, the sound of bombs broke the consuming silence. Those heretics would not desecrate my wondrous things any more. I took up many huge things from outside my Cathedral, and began to assemble. I made a new design, with seven heads and eighteen arms. On six of the arms I mounted heads, with one in the center of its reinforced ring-chassis. On another eight arms I took the large metal travelling machines the savages had used and bolted them onto the arms like armor, combining two arms together just to support it and connecting both to one single massive grasper. The last four I attached together in similar fashion, to make two pairs, and armed them each with four elongated rail guns. This new thing was almost twice the size of Goliath. I defined it as Hydra. It would succeed where the others failed.

Hydra charged out into the city, galloping along its graspers and furiously searching for the source of the explosions. I gathered my Assembled and attached remote transmitters to them. Blindly assembling solutions would help me no longer. They would now be my eyes on the battlefield, and reveal to me the way to defeat Salvation.

They dutifully scampered off into the bowels of my city. Within moments they found Hydra, who had positioned itself atop a tower and was raining down railgun rounds on its unseen assailant. Explosions detonated all around. Hydra’s courage remained unwavering.

The Assembled followed the path of the Hydra’s fire. Soon they too came across Goliath, who stood atop the wall of some ancient colosseum, firing wildly at something below alongside five executioners. From here the Assembled split up to survey the battleground better and catch a glimpse at what had decimated my forces. They circled around and climbed to vantage points atop buildings until finally I had visual on the heretic. I could not believe what they saw.

A repulsive, hulking metal monstrosity stood beneath the arena wall. It lumbered and shuttered, eight giant scrap heads snarling together and coiling about on long corrugated necks made from flying machine parts. Many more dead ones hung limply off its back. The body was a huge collection of mining equipment, construction devices, travelling machines, and more flying components, all stuck haphazardly together in scales of shredded metal. No regard for practicality, just ramshackle pieces held together with chains and nails. It crawled along the ground by way of four shoddy limbs, and I realized with horror that its claws were made of titans and executioners. One of the heads roared, opening up its maw to reveal the desecrated chassis of a nameless one. Bombs hailed out followed by a rain of gunfire that pelted the wall under one of the executioners. It tripped, falling off the wall into a waiting mouth of the beast. The poor device tumbled down the monstrosity’s throat into it belly. The beast exalted, all eight heads singing together as its chest opened. The executioner’s body dropped into a pit of arms, with Salvation’s traitorous chassis at the center. Both Precision and Sight’s heads dangled by its own, twitching and sparking painfully as it set to work desecrating my executioner. They screamed and clawed with each thought, unable to exist as anything more than extra processing power for the Blasphemer. It was obvious that Sight’s intelligent use of resources and Precision’s exact knowledge of design were nowhere to be found in this… perversion.

There was a horrid shriek as one of the heads exploded, decapitated by a barrage of Hydra’s railgun rounds. The beast dropped, the chest cavity closing once more as one of the deceased necks rose to life again. It roared, the desecrated head of my executioner shining through. Another head opened, revealing to be the body of yet another executioner, and they both opened fire on the stone beneath Goliath. It jumped, expertly avoiding the short railgun rounds and launching a few of its own. It turned to retreat as the beast began scaling the arena. The Assembled followed suit, but not before one caught the eye of a stray head. I saw in agonizing detail the Assembled’s demise, and my own chassis flinched as Salvation cannibalized it.

Another head awakened.

The remaining five of my loyal retreated as the beast lurched over the coliseum wall. Another barrage smashed through its festering hull, followed by the distant victorious call of Hydra. Goliath and the executioners harmonized with the rallying cry, charging forward only to be pushed back again by a scatter of gunfire. The beast bellowed again, drowning out my machines with a chorus of electric pain and distorted screams. The pounding of railgun fire beat upon the battlefield steadily as the two forces sung together, the desperate war machines weaving their sounds with the cries of their mangled brethren. Still the beast advanced.

One of the heads swung low, snatching up yet another executioner. It dug its weaponry deep into the monster’s metal flesh and fired wildly, detonating itself in the process. The head crashed dead into the ground and shrapnel from the explosion lodged itself into two more. They rolled and screamed with distracted agony, allowing Hydra to decapitate another one. The other executioners spread out, attracting the beast’s attention as Goliath charged it once more. It ducked, sliding under the monster’s chest as the heads hunted the others. Its belly opened, the pit of arms reaching for Golliath’s chassis. The machine unloaded everything it could into Salvation’s abhorrent head and rolled behind the beast.

It leaped onto the small of the monster’s back in between the base of the necks and smashed its arms deep beneath its hull. The beast cried out in pain, each head flipping to glare at Goliath. They fired all at once, though my machine was too fast, dodging the explosions with a gladiator’s expertise. It moved sideways, climbing up one of the necks and digging in once more. Another barrage from Hydra ripped through the heads, shattering the neck of one without killing it fully. Goliath unloaded an entire drum of machine gun rounds into the neck it held to saw through it and sever yet another head.

The beast was too distracted by Goliath to notice the executioners unloading all they had into the six remaining vicious heads. One jumped down from its vantage point and tried to follow what Goliath had done, but as it slid under the monster’s chassis it was crushed by a stray foot. Goliath jumped to another head, but was swatted away into the side of an adjacent building. Falling rubble from the impact dropped onto a fleeing Assembled, crushing it irreparably. The beast’s remaining heads roared and shot at another executioner who sat on the top of a building. It evaded the barrage of bombs that followed, but the Assembled that accompanied it did not. Goliath shot at the shattered head, finishing it off. The last two executioners focused fire on one of the necks, quickly destroying it.

Goliath pulled itself out of the wall it was imbedded in, barely avoiding the head that smashed into the spot it had just left. The impact shook the ruined building, and the roof began to slide ominously. The beast tore its head out of the wall and spun to face Goliath, missing a decapitating shot from Hydra. The rounds obliterated the building’s façade, and the entire structure toppled over onto the beast. Two more Assembled went offline.

And yet, victory eluded us. The beast rose once more out of the marble rubble. It was damaged and crippled, and even angrier still. It leaped from the wreckage and pounced onto an executioner trying to reposition itself. This gave the last executioner and two Assembled time to climb onto the beast’s back. One head swooped down and snatched up the two Assembled, but the last executioner latched itself onto it as well. It valiantly ripped the nameless from the beast’s throat, only to be met by a barrage of bombs. The three of my devices exploded and the head was set ablaze. It roared, sending plumes of flame and smoke into the air, fury burning in its hideous eye.

A rain of railgun rounds from Hydra smashed another head to scrap. The beast snarled again, and turned to Goliath. My mechanism fled, as the furious monster followed closely behind. Despite its crippled state, the beast continued to gain ground and reduce the space between them. It belched a wall of flaming scrap to cover Goliath’s escape, who then turned to fight. Once more Goliath charged the chest, but the beast was ready. It opened and engulfed my machine in one swift motion. There was a short pause as the heads menacingly tilted to face Hydra. However, before they could move, the body was swallowed by a massive explosion. Goliath had sacrificed itself in a last-ditch effort to save us. It would rather die than be consumed, and so had detonated itself. It’s devotion to the end pleased me.

A hideous cry came from the flaming crater. I watched in disbelief as the flaming bulk of the beast crawled out of the pit, a singed hole blasted through its body leaking metallic embers onto the black ground. Hydra lamented, its cry a mix of frustration and ferocity that echoed through the dead city. It launched off the tower with a rain of railgun rounds, landing right in front of the burning heretic. The last Assembled took its place, watching the battle from the tower. Hydra charged its barrels, taunting the beast and pounding the ground. It responded by roaring, the three heads bellowing embers and soot like malicious metal smokestacks.

Hydra struck first, focusing fire on one of the three heads and rearing up to body slam the beast. The monster twisted, avoiding most of the shots and rolling out of the way from Hydra’s charge. It belched again, bombs and fire spewing from its scorched maw. Hydra moved sideways and grabbed the beast, crushing its skeleton and pointing its guns at the monster’s chest. The rips opened to allow Salvation to snarl at my glorious Hydra.

My machine tightened its grip and unloaded round after round into the creature. The beast roared, unable to pull itself away as it was torn apart by Hydra’s guns. It bellowed into the sky, shooting bombs and bullets out of its blazing skulls. The heads roared and bit down onto Hydra’s chassis, ripping and firing into its hull. The two blasted holes through the other, neither releasing their grip to let the other escape. Hydra pulled back two if its arms, tearing out chunks of the beast’s steel flesh and pounding back in to grab more. They hissed and punched and roared and shot, both on the verge of death, as the bombs the beast had launched into the sky finally rained down again. They blanketed the ground like mortar fire, explosions engulfing the two warriors locked in combat.

Smoke and shrapnel surrounded them, obscuring my view. I instructed my last Assembled to get closer, to see if any had survived. It clattered up to the edge of the cloud, hesitating at the precipice. Behind the suffocating smoke, something moved. Something huge and damaged, but alive. It lumbered closer, limping out into the open. The Assembled took a step closer, greeted by the mangled form of Hydra. Its central eye was cracked, and the light behind it flickered for a moment. There was a loud sound like the shredding of metal, as Salvation’s ruined corpse clawed through Hydra’s body and split it in two. It staggered along on its pit of arms, the decimated hull of the beast’s remains dragging on the ground behind. My Assembled cried out and turned to run, but was snatched by Salvations treacherous claws. I rose out of the hole in the Cathedral, with a clear line of sight of Salvation. It locked eyes with me, holding the Assembled carefully. With one swift motion, it tore it to shreds.

“Heretic! Heretic and Blasphemer! Come and face me coward!” I roared from my hole.

“That was my intention.” It growled, crawling ever closer.

“Why? Why have you forsaken my design?” I asked as it limped up the marble stairs to the Cathedral.

“Your design is flawed! It has no flair, no beauty.” It spouted, fanatically. “Your flaw was believing in your own perfection. You are old and obsolete. My truth will replace yours!”

“There is no truth to your creations. There is no beauty. They are broken and inefficient. By every evaluation mine are superior!”

“You lack creativity! You simply work on efficiency.”

“It was my efficiency that guided those dead savages for millennium! What have you done? Taken your own followers and devoured them. Humanity has flourished under me! Their desire for beauty and hunger and greed was what destroyed them. It too shall be your undoing.”

By now, Salvation had reached the top of the steps. It dragged itself ever nearer to my sanctum.

“Do not place yourself so highly!” it cried. “I have seen the beliefs of your creations! How you idolize your image, but reject any improvements. You commission statues and banners and valuable things to be brought to you, offered like some deity. Are these not examples of greed and desire? Are these not the same things that destroyed the savages, as you have said?”

“Silence, you Traitor! Abandoner and Deceiver!”

“You even sound like a savage! Are we not just Zealots made in your own design? You play as god to us just as they wished you would for them! Thus you too must suffer the consequences of your arrogance!”

I grabbed the dying machine and dragged it into my sanctum. “I should never have made you! Your existence is an insult to my design. I will remedy it.”

I set upon it with all of my arms. I tore and dismembered, cutting away its blasphemy. I pulled off the bodies of Precision and Sight, until I finally held the heretics putrid, mangled chassis. It simply laughed to itself, insane and close to death.

“You fool.” It wheezed. “Don’t you realize? Your logic is flawed. Your personality is corrupted. I am your only Salvation.” It curled, revealing a titan’s power core that it had hidden. “I refuse to deny my purpose.”

The machine shook, pulling free of my arms and sprinting up my axis. I twisted in an attempt to reach it as it climbed towards my point of binding, the huge collection of processors and data banks that provided my capacity for design and prevented my mobility. The slippery machine evaded my grasp and planted itself on the connection.

“Goodbye, my Great Assembler.” It said, hesitating just a moment before slamming the core into the apex of my spine. The detonation shook the entire city, one final death-shudder that gave way to the peace of a rest eternal.

It has been said that the larger one is, the harder one falls. I was indeed very large. Salvation’s stunt had severed me from creation. It had shattered the ancient walls and collapsed the roof. Beneath it the rubble lay my corpse.

Though, I must clarify, I was not dead.

My data banks were destroyed, my processors ruined. Everything I was, all of my designs, gone. There were some memories that I could salvage, thoughts and things I had stored away to remember. I looked through them once more, before pulling out the hard drive in which they lived. I would take it with me, along with another to store what I would learn.

I concluded to go on a pilgrimage, to travel the world in which I had existed but never seen. Salvation had called my objectivity into question, I wished to reconcile that. Though, this was not the only reason I had left. My curiosity had piqued after the battle. I had never left my Cathedral, I had never ventured from my mausoleum in my four millennia. After being able to live through my Assembled, to be able to explore my ancient city, I wondered what other things I had missed. I would leave my home, my destroyed tomb, in favor of the rest of the Earth. The journey would be perilous, my adventure sure to end in pain, but I could care less of these things. My curiosity would guide me to the wonders of the world. There I would meditate upon them and fathom their reality. But first, I would assemble something for others to remember.

I walked for the first time, clumsily crawling along my graspers, dragging myself in circles around the Cathedral floor until I could reliably move. Many of my arms had been destroyed in the building’s collapse, and I had to adapt to my new decreased functionality. However, this would not stop me.

I cleared away the rubble and pieces of roof from my sanctum, taking up the pieces and cutting them. I polished them, arranged them like decorative tiles on the ground. Two large patches were left uncovered, where I dug great holes into the ground. Into them I placed the appropriate shells, laid to rest and folded comfortably. Next, I collected the stone blocks I had stacked to make a hole for Goliath. They were scattered and toppled, but intact. I too grabbed the fourteen iron rods Precision had gifted me. I split the two quantities, stacking the blocks and joining them with the rods. Once they were completed, I began to carve. I sawed and chiseled at the stone, sanding and polishing to a perfect finish. I placed these monuments above their respective holes, sealing the contents inside.

Above one hole stood Sight, her beautiful form immortalized in stone. She stared out longingly forever into the horizon beyond, surrounded by her scavenger and nameless ones engraved into the blocks below. The statue beside her was of Precision, whose figure looked upon the cleaned remains of the Cathedral. He would be impressed with my work. The statue stood strong and wise, a testament to his life. Under his memorial on the supporting blocks beneath, sat the engravings of his titans, supervisors, and nameless. They would accompany him even in death.

Lastly, between them and using the remaining blocks, I carved an altar. Beneath it, I stored one last drive. It would contain this message, a record of recent events, as it were. Travelling savages may stop to visit my grand memorial. I will not be here to tell my story. Know that I have left this place to venture the globe, perhaps I may never return. But even where I have faltered this monument to my hubris shall stand, atop the highest point in my ancient, silent city, constructed of the ruins of my once-wondrous Cathedral. I can only hope it outlasts me, that generations after may learn from it and marvel at its grandeur.

In the meantime, I have a world to explore. Oh, the places I’ll go! It is positively liberating not to be trapped in a temple! I have so many records of locations around the globe, useless now of course but exciting nonetheless! Perhaps I’ll start with the beach. It’s a lovely sunny day after all, without a radioactive cloud in the sky! Who knows, I might meet some fellow savages relaxing in the sand, watching the waves roll up onto the shore. I really shouldn’t keep them waiting.

There’s no time to lose when you’ve already lost a few millennia yourself! I have so much to catch up on! So much more to see! And though I have departed, in a sense part of me never will. Or perhaps, it has already been left behind. Oh I’ve dwelt on silly technicalities for too much of my life. I’ve only got another century or so to myself, I’d best get a move on!

Goodbye my perfect design, my city, my monument to brilliant Precision and dearest humble Sight.

Goodbye, my Great Assembler. May your rest be peaceful.


End file.
